Flarfegnugen
by Jeremy 'Zem' Williams
Summary: First chapter is, simply, Thor-Loki smut. I swear, it will be more than that later on. For now, Thor-Loki, later on... Well, you'll see. A few OC's, and most of the characters from both movies. Post Thor/Avengers. Finally, a chapter damn near four full pages on Word! Longest chapter so far, hope this keeps up.
1. Nothing Else Matters

Thor was, to put it simply, angry. And while this was not a strange thing for him, being the god of thunder and all that, the reason why, well, that's what was strange. The nearly seven-foot, blonde haired, sun-kissed-skinned, blue eyed god was angry because he was alone in his bedchambers. This too wasn't all that strange, only tonight, after a fruitful campaign to quell an uprising in one of the nine worlds, and a massive feast in his honour, he was now drunk, and very, _very_ aroused. Normally, he would simply pleasure himself and go to sleep, but tonight's problem wasn't going away that easily. And no matter how hard the Thunderer tried, he could not stop thinking about his brother Loki. In a flustered rage, he grabs a hold of his bedside table and hurls it as hard as he can at the wall. The innocent piece of furniture shatters into a thousand splinters from the force, and they clatter to the ground noisily.

"This is not right!" Thor cries out, slumping onto his bed and staring ruefully at his tented trousers. "How is this fair to think of Loki in such a perverse way…" Thor knew it was wrong, and he also knew that if anyone was made aware of his fiendish lust for his brother, word would get back to Odin. The Thunderer, while not afraid of a great many things, was indeed very afraid of his father's wrath. The Allfather could strike him down without batting an eye, which is all he had anyway, one eye, or worse, exile him from Asgard. Thinking about it now, as his crowning ceremony drew closer, the Allfather watched him with even more scrutiny. So this really was an awful time to be lusting after his younger brother.

Suddenly, a soft knock at the door draws him from his thoughts, and he jumps up, startled. He quickly untucks his tunic and postures himself in such a manner that made it difficult to spot his arousal, his shoulders hunched forward slightly before calling out to the person on the other side. "Who knocks?" His voice meekly croaks out, and the god silently curses his state. When no answer comes, save for another, softer knock, he storms over and throws the door open in a huff. The man standing on the other side stares at him boredly, sage green eyes slightly annoyed. Thor blinks in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for water.

"So, am I allowed to enter the great Thor's bedchambers, or are you simply going to stand there and stare like a dying fish?" The male's voice was smooth, a gentle soprano, running a hand through his slicked-back onyx hair, other hand resting on the opposite hip.

"L-loki. What are you doing here?" the Thunderer gasps, finding his voice and wits again. "I thought you were still at the feast…"

"I was, and then I noticed you weren't there and I came to see why. It's quite unlike you to be the first to disappear from your own party, dear brother." Without abandon, Loki slides in past the blonde, hips swaying softly from side to side as he moves over to the bed. Clearly, the ravenette was drunk, and gives a sigh as he sits heavily down on his brother's bed. "Something have you angry?" A slender hand, with equally slender fingers, motion to the smashed bedside table, one leg crossing over the other. His hands rest upon his knee, a mischevious glint to his smirk as his green hues slide down Thor's body to his forgotten arousal. The larger male gasps and turns away, shutting the door behind him, earning an enticing chuckle from Loki.

"I was bored," he lies, running a hand through his hair. "I came back here to sleep, but was cursed with this insatiable lust…" The words slip out before he realizes what he is saying, a hand clapping over his mouth with a groan. Loki simply laughs, a gentle sound, the sound like sweet bells upon the Thunderer's ears. He flushes and turns to glare at his brother. "Why do you mock me? Does Loki never suffer lust? I'm sure he's too good for it." The god's words, meant to lash, only prompt the other to laugh harder, his arms wrapping around his belly to hold his sides as he does. This only enrages Thor, who storms over, gripping the ravenette's shoulders and shaking them, Loki's head falling against his chest, still chuckling.

"Oh dear brother…" he purrs, straightening himself like the dignified creature he was. Green hues narrow with a smirk, staring up at Thor, who had instantly been flustered as the other fell against his chest. "Of course not, I am a man after all. And I have no problems pleasuring myself, unlike you do… But then again, I know exactly what I want. Perhaps you are simply confused, and feel inadequate because of it. Do you know what you want, Thor?" The way Loki's lips part slightly, still panting softly from his laughter, and the light blush across his cheeks as he gazes up at the blonde was enough to drive him mad. But the ravenette's words stir more anger at him, though he simply turns away and glares holes into the floor.

"I know what I want, Loki," the Thunderer states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. His brother raises an eyebrow, lifting himself off the bed to circle the blonde like he usually does when he's about to strike. The blonde's eyes narrow suspiciously, trying his best to prepare him from any harsh-worded attack his brother could give.

"And tell me, Thor, what _do_ you want?" The taller male blinks, not having expected that. Perhaps the mead had dulled Loki's wits.

"I want someone worthwhile. Someone whom I love. Someone… like you, Loki. Confident and strong, but kind and sharp-witted. One who would love me even when I'm wrong, as you have so many times in the past." Thor states proudly, only to glare at the shapeshifter as he turns into a woman, long black hair spilling down her shoulders. "Do not mock me, brother, I am not amused by your games."

"But it's not a game… You want me." Loki grins, taking a step forward only to trip a little on the hem of her dress, falling forward into Thor's arms as a man again. "Curse those damned dresses…" he trails off as he seems to realize where he's at, then hisses and sneers. "I've known your secret for a long time, brother, and laugh. Not only do you lust after your little brother, you lust after a man. The great Thor, enticed by two taboos at o-EEYAH!" Loki screeches as he's flung backwards, hitting the floor and sliding across it into Thor's reading chair. His arms cover his face just before he hits it, and as the debris settles, his arms fall above his head. Thor rushes over to his side, though the sight made the Thunderer's arousal even worse. Loki lay on the floor, arms over his head and legs splayed, panting and moaning softly in pain and glares as he notices his brother staring at him.

"I'm sorry Loki." The blonde leans down and grips his shoulders, lifting him into his arms and holding him tightly. Whimpering softly, the thinner male nuzzles in closer to Thor, before squeaking softly in protest as he's kissed passionately, green eyes wide in surprise. The next thing he knows, he is flung lightly onto his brother's bed and laid upon, Thor's weight pressing down between his legs firmly. Their lips meet once more, the blonde god's tongue begging entrance, a hand tangled in Loki's onyx locks. Losing all rational thought, he gives in, arms wrapping around the Thunderer's large shoulders and twisting his fingers into those golden locks.

"Nnn, Thor, this is…" the ravenette is silenced by another kiss, gasping softly as Thor begins to undress him, quickly. First his cape is unlatched, before his vest is ripped open, the hooks popping off. "Thor you oaf!" Loki cries out, pouting ferociously.

"You can have Mother fix it later…" the vest is discarded off to the side before being joined by the ravenette's tunic.

"But that was my favourite- oohh…" Thor's lips had found one of his nipples, a large hand pressing against the crotch of his trousers. Another, louder moan escapes Loki's throat, bucking up into the hand. Swiftly, his pants are removed, leaving the lithe male unfairly naked whilst Thor still stood clothed in trousers and a tunic. He remedies this easily, however, murmuring an incantation to make the clothing melt off. The Thunderer gives a small blush at this, not quite ready to reveal the extent of his arousal to the other, but that's soon forgotten as he notices Loki's arousal. "Do you still find me attractive, now that I lay bare?"

"You're even more beautiful than I had ever dreamed…" Thor's breathing hitches in his throat as he realizes just what he'd said, but Loki only beckoned him to kiss him deeply. The ravenette flips them over, so that he was straddling the blonde's hips. A wave of his hand and a bottle of oil appears. "What's that for?"

"Simple Thor, I've never done this before. I don't want to be limping tomorrow." A generous amount of oil is poured into Loki's hand, and then rubbed onto the blonde's length, earning a buck or two. The bottle is tossed to the side before the thinner male's slender hips are lowered onto the generous length beneath him. Thor's hands slide up his thighs to help, the ravenette's own hands clutching at the other's chest, biting his lip hard.

Once Loki was seated fully on his length, they stay there for a moment, both panting softly. Suddenly, the ravenette gives a moan, raising his hips up before letting them fall again. His shiny black nails leave marks in the Thunderer's skin as he repeats this, his body shivering while the blonde simply moans and rocks his hips upwards into the other. Squirming a little atop Thor, Loki arches his back and cries out as the blonde's member slides against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ahh, Loki, s-stop," Thor pants, causing the other to open one green eye, glaring down at him in a silent question of why. "I don't want you doing all the work." The ravenette obliges, placing his arms over his head as the blonde lays him down on his back. The blonde leans over him, starting his thrusts slowly before picking up his pace at the other's urging. Loki's fingers dig into Thor's back, holding him close with surprising strength as they kiss passionately, panting and moaning into it. The shapeshifter's legs wrap around the other's hips, arching his back and writhing with each thrust. It doesn't take long for their heated affair to end, their climax tense and impassioned. Loki's eyes flutter shut before he moans and buries his face against the crook of the blonde's neck. His head and back were starting to hurt from being thrown, having sobered greatly, and he knew he would have bruises in the morning. At the moment, though, he cares only to stay close to Thor. His plan had worked, flawlessly, despite knowing that the thunder god would probably never even remember it, or touch him like this again. But that was alright for the ravenette, especially as the blonde pulls him up towards the top of the bed and covers them with the blanket, his green cloak lying forgotten where Thor had removed it earlier. Snuggled up to the larger male's side, Loki lies his head comfortably against Thor's neck, feeling the pulse against his cheek, and falls quickly into sleep.

A few hours later, the ache of his back and rear were too much to ignore, and the ravenette glares off at nothing as he wakes up. Unable to sleep again, he simply sits with Thor's head against his chest, watching him, running his fingers through his golden hair slowly. The moonlight bathes them in cool light, but as Loki looks out the window, he gives a heavy sigh. Some while before the sun rises, the shapeshifter gets up, dresses himself, and slips off back to his room, ignoring the fact that his favourite vest was now, in fact, ruined. Thankfully, the only one that could see him was Heimdall, and he simply masks his presence from the guardian as he'd done during his time in Thor's bed. Once in his room, he locks the door and bathes before slipping into his own bed, naked. The ravenette's green hues stare up at the setting moon, a silent tear slipping from his eye as he curls against his pillow, his night of bliss finally over.


	2. Omens and Lukewarm Coffee

Weaving his way through the mass of bodies that clogged the hallways surrounding the feast hall, Loki huffs in frustration. Never had it been this difficult to get into the hall. But of course, with it being announced that Thor would become king shortly, everyone seemed to want to congratulate them, even if they'd already known since the week before. Day after day it was "Congratulations, Thor" and "Glad to have you as our king, Thor", and Loki had started to go mad because of it. Especially so after that night… Loki's thoughts are interrupted by the sudden bumping into a strong chest, his eyes not moving from their focus on the feast table as he starts to speak, though stopping as the one he'd ran into does.

"Loki, there you are," comes a voice he knows all-too-well: his brother, Thor, crowned prince of Asgard. The ravenette's skin pales, which was something no one would have expected capable of it, and he dares not look at the blonde. "I haven't seen you since…"

"I've been busy, Thor," the shapeshifter's tone is cold and sharp, green eyes glaring off to the side. "As have you. Congratulations. Now, I have things to do, so if you'll excuse me…" As he goes to turn around, Thor grasps his shoulder, his blue eyes locking with Loki's.

"You should stay with us, brother, we were just telling of…"

"Hah, and interrupt your party?" he scoffs, brushing Thor's hand off his shoulder, a haughty look on his face. "I never cared much for your celebrations anyway, too much noise and mead. I have better things to do." The ravenette turns swiftly, forcing his way back through the throng of people, his long green cape billowing out behind him as the crowd parts, only to close back up as the people surrounded Thor. The blonde casts a concerned glance at his brother's back, sighing softly before obliging to the requests of attention and praise.

Several moments later Loki enters his room, verdant hues glancing around the dark-coloured walls with boredom. It was hard enough to find sanctuary in a place he always felt like he didn't truly belong, but lately things were different. Even his favourite haunts held no pleasure for the shapeshifter, and he was beginning to wonder if he had simply used up all of Asgard's interesting resources. No, not all of them… The weapon's vault still held him enraptured, though it really was one object that seemed to have a hold on him. The frost giant's casket, their power, taken from Jotunheim those many years ago. Jotunheim always held a special kind of power over the ravenette, always having loved hearing about it as a child. Thor thought it silly for the longest time, his fascination, but after a while the thunder god ceased having an interest in taunting Loki about it. So when he had the spare time, the trickster would slip down there and watch the casket, just staring at it for a while. Occasionally, he would sketch it from different angles, often leaving charcoal handprints on his clothing and the walls. Sometimes, he would be caught by Odin, who gave him the strangest looks as he lied and said he wished to study it further, the excuse of knowing his enemy's power. Depending on the Allfather's mood, he would either sit with Loki and retell the story of his triumph over Laufey, though he'd heard it a thousand times, or shoo him off, telling him to get out of the dark vault and play or train with the others. Once, Loki even dared to try and touch it, but Heimdall saw and warned him before he could. That had been embarrassing, but he thanked the guardian for not telling his father.

Stripping off his heavy cloak, he drops the article to the floor as his feet lead him further into the room. As he walks, more of his clothing joins his cloak on the floor, until he is completely naked, before his bed. A glance to his mirror reminds him of the one place he longed so desperately to be: Thor's arms. He still had bruises from the Thunderer tossing him across the room, and his arms wrap around his chest, gently brushing against one on his shoulder blade. His heart gives a twinge, the ravenette letting out a long, gloomy sigh. It had bothered him to lie to Thor, but he knew he would not be able to stand it, being so close to the blonde and having to act as though everything was fine. It wasn't, dammit, nothing was fine anymore. Ever since that night, Loki had been under constant torment, reminding him of the fact that he could never be with Thor. He had thought that bedding the thunder god would alleviate his pain and lust, but it only made it worse, while Thor seemed blissfully unchanged, though he had seemed to be attempting to include the ravenette more in social events. Not that it mattered, Thor had been drunk, probably too drunk to even remember the night, so why would he change his lighthearted ways?

"Why couldn't I have been born a maid, and not to Mother and Father?" he laments, lying heavily upon his bed, curling up on his side with one of his pillows. At least if he weren't Frigga and Odin's son, he'd have a chance at winning Thor over. As for now, even if his brother wanted him in the same way, he would never show it publicly. Probably not even privately either, knowing that Heimdall was ever-watchful, standing upon the Bifrost, watching with those odd eyes of his. At one point, Loki had found the guardian fascinating, wondering how he was able to be vigilant over all the nine worlds at once. However, trying to get the stoic man to discuss such things was like discussing the subtleties of spell casting with Thor, so Loki gave up his fascination, and simply learned how to avoid his watchful eye. Not only could he play it off as anomalies or unintended side effects of certain spells, he could also, on rare occasions, convince the guardian that it was either a game or that he was simply trying to expand his magickal knowledge. Once, he and Thor had wanted to sneak into… And there go his thoughts to Thor again.

"Get out of my head, damn you!" The pillow the ravenette had curled up against is thrown, bashing into the mirror and cracking it. Blinking, he sits up, looking at it with curiosity. He hadn't thrown it that hard, or had he? Loki gets up, moving over to the tall standing mirror, moving it so he could look into it. Glowing red eyes stare back at him, intricate patterns pressed into his skin. The shapeshifter stares in horror as his hand reaches out to touch the broken glass, but it shatters at his touch, and he hears his name booming out of the shadows, shattering him just like the mirror.

The ravenette sits bolt upright from his bed, panting and covered in sweat, eyes glancing wildly around the room. Gentle moonlight lights the room, his dark green curtains swaying softly in the light breeze coming in from the Bifrost. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. Loki shivers, peeling himself off the sheets towards his bath, needing to cleanse himself after his nightmare. His eyes lock with his reflection's, tall, lithe, and pale as usual, with the exception of some of his hair sticking to his brow, out of its normal place. A sigh escapes his lips, shaking off the dream as he bathes and slips back into his bed to sleep. The prince dreams, of glory, of being king, and of Jotunheim, a voice calling to him… a voice calling him home.

**S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, undisclosed location somewhere in the desert of New Mexico.**

Agent Phil Coulson sips coffee, staring at some blah-blah report Director Fury had handed him an hour ago as they sat on a plane heading towards the facility he now sat in. Come to think of it, he'd done quite a bit of sitting lately, so he stands, stretching a little before checking his watch. Watches never went out of style, or stopped being useful. The brunette sets his coffee cup on the table next to the open file, rubbing his face as he tries to stay awake. The report was, to put it plainly, as boring as watching paint dry. No, of course Phil Coulson loved his job, but sometimes it was way over his head. The Tesseract, a proposed energy source, and potential weapon, that's what the report was about.

"So, what do you think, Agent Coulson?" the director asks, walking into the room like he owned the place. Well, he kind of did, anyway.

"To be honest, Sir, it's all way over my head," Coulson responds, glancing up at the imposing African American male. "Sounds like something… well, sent by the gods." Oh how unaware of the truth of his statement Phil was. Nick simply chuckles, shaking his head.

"It's good though, right? I mean, HYDRA managed to do it, why can't we?" Unofficially, Phil was the director's best consultant. No matter how many people he officially needed to talk to, Phil would always be there with the truth, and maybe even a decent idea of his own. Nick would always trust what the man had to say and smiles at the brunette.

"It could be dangerous. Could potentially backfire. HYRDA didn't get very far, so I think we should approach it with extreme caution."

"Of course, Agent Coulson. I don't want shit to end up like HYDRA did. But… I think we can do it. Anyway, just wanted to get your take on the whole thing before I put it to the council. You know how they get when we do things without them."

"Of course, Sir. Good luck with that. Any chance there's somewhere I can sleep around here? And a shower, if at all possible." The director gives a hearty laugh and pats Phil on the back fondly.

"Yeah, I think they've got some extra rooms down in C level. I'll let you know how it goes." With that, the one-eyed man disappears through the door he'd come in through, leaving Phil Coulson with a half-empty cup of lukewarm coffee, and a file he now had to find something to do with. Letting out a sigh, he picks up both objects and heads down to C level, showers, and crawls into the bunk… just before the alarm goes off. This was going to be a long night…


	3. Wait, Did You Say Dragon?

"Agent Coulson, status report," Nick Fury barks over the walkie-talkie on Phil's table. With a soft groan he reaches for it, nearly dropping it and falling back onto the bed as he attempts to pull his pants back on.

"Nothing to report yet Sir, getting dressed as fast as I can…" he responds tiredly, but shakes it off and buckles his belt over his white dress shirt.

"Emergency catch you with your pants down, Agent?" The humour could be heard over the crackling device, something interfering with the signal.

"Uh, you could say that, Director. I'll report when I know the situation."

"Good. Get Agent Barton there with you, you might need him." The walkie-talkie goes silent, leaving Phil to finish dressing in peace. He hurries out of the room and down the hall, contacting Agent Barton on the com.

"Agent Barton, I need you in… Well I don't know where yet. Where are you?" Maybe he should have asked the director if he knew where exactly the problem was happening. The whole building shakes, a loud roar coming from south and… down? That was impossible, C level was the lowest level in the building.

"I'm standing-ssk- D level," was all Barton's first transmission came out to. Phil grumbles and taps the walkie-talkie against his palm. "There's a huge fucking dragon here. I need-kkshk-on, my arrows aren't doing shit to its armour."

"Alright hold on, I'll be there as soon as I can." Well, as soon as he could figure out how to even get to D level. He runs down the hall, passing several people going the opposite direction, before turning a corner and slamming into someone's face. Both men are knocked on their rears, Coulson quickly pressing his handkerchief to his left nostril to stem the trickle of blood that starts. The other, a lithe blonde with poison green eyes, scrambles to his feet and helps the other up.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," he says, brushing off the back of Phil's jacket. "Uhh, Phil Coulson, right? I was just looking for you, Fury told me to meet up with you and take you to D level."

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine. Yeah, you're… Viktor Reed. I remember you, uh, you consulted on a briefing a while ago." Wait, had he missed a transmission from Fury? He didn't remember hearing anything on the radio. "Hey do you know what's up with the radios? I keep getting interference."

"Yep that would be me," the blonde flashes a proud smile, apparently happy Phil had remembered him. "Oh, yeah, that's… Well, you'll see. Come on, D level is this way." Viktor leads him down a long corridor, down some stairs, stumbling a little as the roaring grows louder, shaking the building more. The closer they get to D level, the more the roaring actually sounds like words. Before Phil could make out what those words were, the corridor in front of them collapses, a large, scaly black claw retreating from the hole. Viktor scrambles up the debris pile and into the large rotunda, disappearing off to the right. Coulson blinks as he reaches the top, his grey-blue eyes taking in the surprising sight of a large black dragon thrashing around the rotunda.

"My g-" As he speaks, the dragon roars once again, Viktor's name easily translated from the animalistic sound. A voice coming from below him causes him to look down, blinking at the walkie-talkie that was suddenly working perfectly.

"Coulson, come in. Are you at the site?" comes the director's voice, and he responds with a simple 'yes'. "Okay, what's going on?"

"Well, Sir, there's… a really big dragon here. And he's really pissed off, or at least that's my interpretation of the situation. Barton's up top, but nothing he's throwing at him is making a dent. What's your call?"

"Wait did you say dragon? Uh, I'll get you backup." Fury's tone sounded worried, but Phil didn't ask, as he was suddenly distracted by Viktor flying through the air into the adjacent wall. The dragon stops thrashing and pins him there with a large claw, his tail nearly swiping Phil into the next wall as it swings left to right. The brunette waves to Barton, signaling him to cease fire before running over to the mobile platform that was nearby. He watches Viktor for signs of life, carefully controlling the platform closer to the centre of the room.

"Coulson… I think they're talking…" Barton whispers through the com, sidling over closer to Viktor's position against the wall from his vantage point, trying to hear what they're saying. However, he nearly falls off as the dragon lets out a booming laugh, and starts to shrink. Within a few seconds, and some disgusting popping sounds later, instead of a dragon there was now a man with long black hair and piercing red eyes standing naked atop the platform in the middle of the room, holding Viktor tightly by the throat. His words ring clearer, though still hard to discern from the growling rumble behind the sound.

"Viktor..." the smooth tenor starts, showing off a set of sharp white fangs as he smirks at the blonde. "You should have known better than to come here."

"Hah, you know you can't kill me," the blonde chokes out, starting to pry the much taller male's hand off his throat. "You're useless without your power." The hand tightens, causing the blonde to choke more.

"And what makes you think that I can't just put my hand through your chest and kill you?"

"Because I know how Alex died." Those words trigger something in the raven-haired male, his eyes widening before narrowing sharply. A humming sound starts up in the ravenette's direction, causing the blonde to laugh hoarsely.

"You killed him…" the hand around Viktor's throat tightens even further, his laugh stopping and gurgling in his throat.

"You… can't use it…" His green eyes flick to Agent Coulson as he silently steps onto the platform. An arrow meant for the ravenette's eye-socket comes flying out of the shadowed heights of the room at high speeds, only to stop dead in its tracks before the male's temple. Viktor's eyes widen in horror as he lifts further off the platform and back a little, out of the other male's grasp. Phil hears Barton give a soft curse over the com, then scrambles to get a hold of something as gravity suddenly seems to switch directions. A dark aura surrounds Viktor, the air inside the chamber sucking in towards him. A loud crack sounds, and the blonde is gone, his scream echoing throughout the rotunda.

Phil Coulson rights himself, staring tiredly at the back of the ravenette's head. This night had gone on for long enough, and Barton was, unsurprisingly, out of arrows. The brunette pulls out his gun, stepping up to the other male, who doesn't turn around despite the suited man not taking efforts to walk quietly. Phil clears his throat, the other turning around slowly, the gun rising up to the taller male's head.

"Goodnight." The gun fires, and Agent Phil Coulson returns it to its holster, staring at the sprawled-out body before him. "Now if only I could sleep…"

**Asgard weapons vault.**

The pulsing blue casket before him, Loki, god of tricks and sharp wits, stares dumbly at it. It had been a day since his nightmare, and through many others which for some reason he did not seem to remember, he was now standing in front of the casket of the frost giants, hand just inches from its surface. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of this blatant idiocy his mind had conceived since the night before. The hum of the power the casket holds bores into his eardrums, images flashing before his eyes. Images of power, glory, and triumph over Asgard. With a cry he stumbles back a little, then forward, his hand snapping out to catch himself. As soon as his fingertips touch the casket, a crack is heard, throwing Loki backwards several feet. Pain laces up his arm sharply, as well as through his back and skull, shivering from both pain and cold. Voices call to him, but seem as though they are worlds away, his vision growing dim as the object of his desire drops to his side.

"Loki…" Thor's voice is just a whisper as the ravenette slips off into unconsciousness.

"…We need to tell him, Odin…" his mother's voice whispers, everything still sounding so far away from him. Slowly, though, her voice grows louder, a sharp throb in his skull causing him to groan. Frigga turns and gives a happy sigh, moving over to her son's bedside as he tries to sit up. "Loki, don't, you're injured and you need to rest," she urges gently, placing a delicate hand upon the ravenette's bandaged shoulder.

"Mother…" Loki murmurs softly, still trying to sit up despite his mother's urging and the pain coursing through his body. A particularly harsh twinge persuades him to lie down again, hissing softly through his teeth. Odin storms over, obviously infuriated.

"And this is why I warned you never to touch the casket, Loki," he shouts, single eye glaring at his son, who cowers a little at the sudden loudness. "You could have been killed!"

"Odin, please, don't yell at him. It was an accident, you heard what Thor said. And you know Thor is a terrible liar." She blinks as Loki snorts softly, turning to face away from them. All he could think of was how they seemed like maggots to him, and he wasn't sure why, though he had the inkling that it was from touching the casket. Perhaps the frost giant's rage at the Asgardians was channeled through the object into Loki, but he shakes that idea off as Thor enters the room, having heard his father shouting. No, he'd always felt this way, he'd just never realized it until now.

"I don't need you to protect me, Mother. Father is right, it was stupid." Maggots, all of them. Even Thor. No, _especially_ Thor. The ravenette does his best to roll onto his side and curl up, the sudden change in attitude shocking the family. Thor reaches out to his brother, but recoils as Loki hisses viciously at him, glaring over his shoulder. "I need rest, and I wish to be alone." Frigga silently grasps Thor's shoulder, pulling him to stand and leave with her and Odin, the thunder god's face laying bare the worry that filled his heart, leaving the ravenette to his increasingly-acidic thoughts about them. Forming a plot in his mind, he drifts off to sleep, and once more dreams of triumph over Asgard, this time with him leading the charge.


	4. Finally

"So… that guy," begins Agent Barton, taking a sip of his bottled water and pointing towards the corpse that lay on a table in the holding cell before them. "Can turn into a dragon? How does that work?" He really didn't know why they put him in a holding cell; the guy was dead, right?

"Brilliant observation, Agent Barton," Phil replies dryly, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. They were waiting on the director to come debrief them, staring at the ravenette lying on the table. "I have no idea. I suppose Director Fury will have to explain it for us."

"I would if I could," the director states, walking up to them, looking nearly as tired as Phil. He offers a file to the brunette, who looks it over briefly before handing it over to Barton.

"This… is all we have on this guy? Physical appearance, name, and that he was captured and restrained… a little over a hundred years ago. How was he even still alive after so long? Did they freeze him or something?" Barton was clearly baffled at their lack of intelligence on the male. A noise inside the chamber before them causes all but Phil to jump slightly, who simply shakes his head and starts towards the door.

"I'll do the interrogation," is all he says before entering, the events of the night already too surprising for him to find it strange that the man was still alive. He stares at him, gasping softly on the table, still unconscious but breathing now, the wound in his skull just finishing closing up. A short while later, his slitted blood red eyes flutter open, staring at nothing for a few moments before flicking to Phil. "Sorry about the headache, didn't know how else to subdue you."

"Hm…" the gravelly tone of his voice was still there, the rumble not from his throat, but from his chest. Turning his head to the right, he coughs and spits out the bullet that had entered his brain onto the floor next to Phil's feet. The brunette looks down at it, nudging the twisted metal with the toe of his shiny black dress shoe before looking back up to the restrained male tiredly.

"You've made my day longer than it should have been, Jeremy Williams. So I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you're going to answer them. That clear?"

"Unlock these cuffs and it will be… if not, they're coming off anyway." Jeremy lifts his arm as far as it will go, gazing at the shackle around his wrist as though it were a bug that landed uninvited upon his skin. With a quick glance to Fury and receiving a nod back, the brunette unlocks the cuffs, then steps back a few feet. "You know it won't help, if I were to attack you."

"Pardon?" The ravenette motions to the space between them and shrugs, rubbing his wrists before standing to stretch, several pops resounding off the glass. Phil shrugs and rests his palm on his gun, taking yet another step backwards. The distance would at least give him the time to unholster the weapon and lift it, hopefully squeezing off a round before Jeremy caught him. "So why did you ask for me to unlock them, if you could do it yourself?"

"Courtesy, Agent Coulson. And I didn't want you shooting me again. Do you know what it feels like for a bullet to ricochet around in your skull? Not pleasant, rips up your brain before finally settling, still hot from the friction of it traveling down the barrel. It's like someone making scrambled eggs with your brain matter with a spatula they heated up and stuffed down a garbage disposal."

"Wait, how do you know my name?"

"Do you think that I wasn't listening to you all chatter on the radio? I have very good hearing you know." Phil shakes his head a little and stuffs his hand not on his gun in his pants pocket.

"Our file on you is… minimal at best. Tell me about yourself, who you are, what you are, and why you were being held in D level, which was apparently above my paygrade."

"Tsk, tsk, that's not a question, Agent Coulson. I said I'd answer questions, not commands. And it would be wise never to do that again, I don't particularly like it."  
"Fine… Could you tell me about who you are, what you are, and why you're here?"

The ravenette shifts a little, then walks towards the door, looking out of the window next to it at the two men watching from the other side. With a smirk, he lifts his finger and begins writing in the glass, backwards, so the two could read the words, the scratching filling the room's silence. 'Nice eyepatch. Arrow boy, next time, why don't you give up after the fifth arrow?' Barton gives him a funny look before crossing his arms over his chest, apparently not fond of the nickname.

"I can't tell you everything about me… that would take far too long. What I am… Well, that's also something I can't really explain right now. Why I was being held? That's something different. See, a little over a hundred years ago, the organization from which this one grew out of decided that it was best for the world that I be restrained. Some jackass human thought I was a threat when all I wanted to do was rip Viktor's heart out and make him eat it. They surprised me, caught me off-guard, and shoved a piece of wood through my chest, thinking that it would kill me. When all it did was paralyze me, they had me frozen. And this was before cryogenic freezing, so they shoved me into a little tiny box and poured liquid nitrogen into the tanks. Well, over time, I managed to discreetly turn off the valves, until the wood thawed enough for my ribcage to force it out as it healed. That was earlier." Jeremy turns to the brunette, leaning against the glass, picking dirt from beneath his fingernails as he waits for another question.

"I see…" was all Agent Coulson could get out before the other started talking again.

"Get the eye patch in here; I need to talk to him. And you, go wash that blood off your cuff, it's driving me nuts." Blinking, the brunette looks down at his cuffs, frowning as he finds the droplet of blood. "Don't ask questions I know you're going to, just go do it. Use arrow boy's water, he's not drinking it." Phil Coulson nearly loses his composure as Jeremy calls Barton 'arrow boy', masking his short snicker by pretending he needed to cough, leaving the man through the door he stood by. Fury raises his good eyebrow at the request but enters the room, the ravenette smirking as Coulson persuades the archer to let him use some water on his cuff.

"So, what did you need to talk with me about, Jeremy?" Fury asks calmly, watching the man with scrutiny.

"I have a request. You're not going to like it, but I need it," he starts, turning to the tall black man. Despite the director's height, the ravenette was still taller, though his slightly-slouched stance didn't show it well. "I need a pint of blood from twenty males. And I need it in a bag of some sorts… something that won't leak, rip, or break. And then I need you all to go away for a little while. You'll know when I'm finished."

"Why? I can't just give you the blood from twenty of my men just because you asked for it."

"And there you go asking questions! I'm not just asking for it, I need it, because if I don't get it, you're not going to like me very much. Instead of only having killed one person today, I'll add you and arrow boy to the list. I'm _trying_ to establish a working relationship with you; I can't do that if you're sitting there smelling like my next meal."

"Meal?" Phil asks, walking into the cell.

"Yes, meal. Now, is it going to happen or…?" The director contemplates the request for a moment, then brings his walkie-talkie up to his lips, sending the order out to his assistant. Jeremy smiles and leans back against the glass, crossing his arms over his chest loosely in a relaxed stance. "See? That wasn't so difficult was it? Now, this won't go unrewarded… I'll explain some more when I'm finished. Shoo." The ravenette shoos them off like children out of a kitchen, sitting down on the table with a light sigh.

Fury shakes his head and shuts the door, beckoning Barton and Coulson out of the observation room, contemplating Jeremy quietly. He stops some way down the hallway and leans against the wall, tapping his chin with his first knuckle. Shortly, a woman pushing a cart laden with a large black body bag passes them, looking quite disgusted with her task.

"That was quick," Phil notes, rubbing his face with his hand. He really wished he could just sleep, but he also knew that he wouldn't be able to until they talked to Jeremy more. "So what's the plan, Director?"

"Well… Viktor is the only one that seemed to know anything about him. Barton, did you happen to catch what they were saying?"

"Nickname's Hawk-_eye_, not Hawk-_ear_," the archer shakes his head as he speaks.

"Or 'Arrow Boy'," Phil quips, getting a chuckle from Fury.

"I guess we'll just have to see what he says then. Don't know what he wanted with the-" The woman that had just passed them comes running back, covering her mouth as though she were about to throw up. Phil jogs over to the door, but can't open it, Jeremy's voice coming over the com.

"Stop trying, Coulson, you're not going to open it," he purrs softly, the metal of the door metamorphosing into a solid sheet of metal. "I'll change it back when I'm done, be patient…" True to his word, the door becomes a door again a few minutes later, allowing them back into the darkened room. The lights flicker back on, Jeremy laying on the table staring up at the ceiling, body bag gone from the room. The only thing odd was the fact that he was now wearing pants, pants made of a shiny black fabric and zippered up one leg.

"Uhhhmm…" Barton starts, earning a wicked grin from the man inside the cell, who jumps off the table and walks over to the glass, the material rippling and parting for him to pass through with ease. Agent Coulson immediately grabs his gun, but before he can even lift it, the ravenette is upon him, thrusting him against the wall with his gun knocked to the floor.

"Agent Coulson… I have something to tell you…" Jeremy leans in and whispers into the man's ear before letting him go, chuckling softly before running a hand through his long black hair. "You can tell them if you'd like, I don't care." Turning to Fury, he straightens and looks him straight in the eye. "You humans call my kind vampire, though it's not as simple as that. You call us that because we can only consume liquids, namely, blood."

"You can't eat human food?" Fury blinks, surprised by this.

"Well, I can't eat solids. They make me throw up… And you'd want to barf too, knowing what's in some of your food. Never eat a hot dog, ever. It's so disgusting…"

"I like hot dogs," Agent Coulson blinks, now on the bench a few feet to the left.

"Of course you do," Jeremy quips, earning a look from the brunette.

"Did you just…"

"I did."

"Hm, well then." Barton looks between them confusedly, while the director simply shakes his head. The large African American goes to speak, only to be silenced by Jeremy.

"Well, it's time for me to go now. Your computers were extremely helpful… I've been hacking them the entire time we were talking, but don't worry, I'm not going to ruin you or anything. I just needed information about who you are, what you do, and the outside world. I've been asleep for a hundred and four years after all." He turns around as he speaks, walking up to the glass and running a finger down it. Before they could stop him, he steps forward, disappearing into a portal that opens before him, closing with a soft pop. The director sighs and stares at the spot for a moment, then turns to Phil.

"You can go to sleep now, Agent Coulson. You too Agent Barton." Coulson gives a relieved sigh as the man walks away.

"Finally…"


	5. Strange Talk From a Strange Man, pt I

**S.H.I.E.L.D. airship headquarters, somewhere over the Atlantic, a few hours after Loki's army is defeated in New York.**

The Avengers sit in silence around the triangular table on the command deck of SHIELD Headquarters, hovering somewhere over the Atlantic ocean near New York. Tony Stark chatters quietly with Dr. Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers watching them with disinterest. Everything they were saying was going right over his head, but it wasn't like he had much else to do. Thor leans against the railing nearby, deep in thought, probably about his brother. Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton sit opposite to Tony and Dr. Banner, murmuring quietly about something unknown to the others. Director Nick Fury watches, like a hawk over his children, which was kind of what they were. The Avengers Initiative was, more or less, his brainchild. Agent Maria Hill, the director's assistant, comes up the stairs, murmuring something to Fury that causes him to frown.

"Are you sure?" he asks quietly, uncrossing his arms from his chest. Agent Hill nods, showing him the tablet in her hand.

"We picked it up a few seconds ago, just… started randomly," she explains, tapping something on the tablet. "It's getting closer, too. What shall we do?" Director Fury contemplates the information for a moment, then turns around to speak to her.

"Nothing, Agent Hill. There's nothing we can do, if it's what I think it is. I don't think we're in any danger though." She nods and returns to her post, earning a strange look from Natasha and Barton, as well as Thor, who straightens up and walks over to the one-eyed male.

"Is there something to be concerned about?" he inquires, receiving a shake of the head from Fury.

"No, I don't think so. Just give it a minute." The god nods and returns to his spot, though now on guard, a hand resting upon Mjolnir's handle. True to the director's prediction, something does happen. Agent Hill rushes over to tell him that something relatively large had just landed on the flight deck. As the director looks over the tablet, a commotion starts in the hallway.

"Sir you're not allowed in here," a male voice states, followed by another male voice.

"Well I'm not going to wait for your director to decide if I'm allowed on the command deck," the smooth tenor flows into the room, getting closer. "I'm a very impatient man you see."

"Sir if you do not stop I will be forced to shoot you."

"Go ahead then, I'm waiting." A tall man stops just inside the room, turning towards the hallway with a grin meant to bare his teeth, blue eyes staring pointedly at the man in the hall. At the director's command, the soldier backs down, leaving the newcomer to straighten to his full six-foot-seven height and run a hand through his long black hair.

"Jeremy," Fury starts. "Interesting to see you again… Can I help you?" The man grins and looks around the room at the people staring at him, focusing on the Avengers.

"Actually, it's more of what I can do for you, Director Fury. First of all… Introductions. First, Steve Rogers, the one and only Captain America, a pleasure. The name is Jeremy, or Zem, whichever you prefer. I answer to both equally." He first approaches the Captain, shaking his hand lightly before turning to Stark and Dr. Banner. "Dr. Bruce Banner, even more of a pleasure to meet you. I must say I admire your work… And of course your, er, other talents… Tony Stark, yet another great mind. I'd like to have a conversation with you as well, preferably at the same time as Dr. Banner. A ménage a trios with two of the greatest scientific minds of the century. Brilliant!" Spinning round on his heel, he doubles back to Natasha and Barton. "Miss Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow herself, as gorgeous as she is talented. Agent Barton, or should I say, 'Arrow Boy', very nice to see you again… Oh. Where's Agent Coulson?" A silence fills the room, and the ravenette frowns. "Oh, I'm so sorry… He was a good man."

"And how would you know that?" Agent Barton snaps, giving him a glare.

"Because, I only associate with good men. I also know that he loved his job and also loved the Captain dearly, he idolized him. A vintage set of the Captain's trading cards was his prized possession. Your file on him is quite extensive…"

"That doesn't mean you knew him," Barton growls, going to stand, only to be pinned to the chair by the ravenette, a stern look on his face.

"I'm not here to argue about Phil Coulson, Clint… So accept my condolences and accept that I know that he was a good man," Jeremy's tone was sharp and biting, leaving Barton speechless, the ravenette turning to Thor. "Ah, and last, but certainly not least… Thor, god of thunder, warrior of Asgard. You know, you're much more impressive in person. I can't even start to describe the feeling of standing here, in this room, with all you incredible people… Especially you, Thor. Oh, right, where's Loki? I desperately need to speak with him."

"You need to do no such thing," Thor states firmly, drawing himself up to his full height, though he was still slightly shorter than Jeremy. "My brother is…"

"I know he's being held for what he's done but I need to speak with him before you spirit him off to Asgard for the Allfather to deal with for his crimes. It's extremely important." The man turns on his heel once more and slips past the director, striding swiftly down the hallway towards the holding cell. Entering the room, he gives a wicked grin, crossing his arms over his chest as he encircles the round prison. "Ohh, you are _much_ more interesting than your brother, Loki…" The male inside the prison looks up from the floor, frowning at Jeremy.

"Jeremy, step away from there," Fury commands as he enters the room, followed by the group of Avengers. The one-eyed man earns a sneer and a dismissing wave from the tall male, who walks through the glass to the left of the prisoner. Loki stands and steps away from Jeremy, frowning more at him.

"I must say I am deeply honoured to meet you, Loki, you are… so amazing and you don't even realize it." Spotting the gag preventing the raven-haired god from speaking, he frowns, reaching up to touch it lightly. "That… has to be embarrassing…" The object sparks softy and loosens, falling down around his neck.

"And who…" Loki begins, his hands reaching up to rub his jaw. "Are you? Have you come to help me escape?" the ravenette's tone was haughty and aggravated, glancing towards Thor momentarily.

"The name is Jeremy, and no, I'm sorry. You must go to Asgard and face your punishment, but fear not, this will be good for you. You need nothing more than yourself to become great, Loki." Jeremy's hand comes to rests upon the other's shoulder, only for a moment before withdrawing. "Oh, that… That's interesting. Have you told him yet?" The god's eyes narrow, his body tensing. "Ah, you haven't… You really should."

"No, he doesn't need to know. And they are all mere pawns in my game, Jeremy. Whoever you are, you know nothing about me or what I desire."

"Hardly, Loki. I know more than you think, and I know that you are not the one controlling them. They control you, Loki, and once you break free, you will be free to be who you want to be. They poison your mind… Such a beautiful mind should not be contained like this." Jeremy shakes his head at the snort he receives, turning and walking through the glass towards Thor. "Thor, convince Odin to banish him. To… Muspell."

"Why? You really think Father would even ask my opinion?"

"You'd be surprised, Thor… And because, that's where he'll be safest, and where his sss-" the male catches himself as Loki hisses viciously, giving a soft, nervous laugh. "Ahh, sorry, me and my big mouth. He'll be safe there, and I know that's what you want the most."

"How would you know that?"

"Because I'm intelligent and I know certain things when I see them. Oh, and…" Jeremy lowers his voice, murmuring softly to Thor. "He has a necklace he always wears… Don't leave him without it. It's vital that he has it." The ravenette turns back to Loki with an apologetic look, pressing his hand to the glass. "I'm sorry but I have to put it back now. Please, think about what I've said. Remember that you need only you to be great." The gag fixes back over the god's mouth, sitting as Jeremy leaves the room with the others following. A silent tear falls from his eye, left alone to his thoughts.

The group returns to the command deck, Thor reaching out to grab the strange man's arm, mouth opening to speak. The ravenette spins around with incredible speed, hand gripping the blonde's long tresses and forcing his head down towards the edge of the table, but stopping just before the god's head was smashed into it. A growl rips from Jeremy's chest, eyes flashing red as he glares down at him.

"_Never_ do that again…" Letting go of the blonde, Jeremy plops down in one of the chairs, giving a sigh. The rest of the Avengers just stare as Thor sits on the floor, still trying to process what had just happened. Director Fury is the first to speak, clearing his throat before stepping forward.

"What do you want, Jeremy?" he asks flatly, no longer in the mood for games.

"I want to join the Avengers."


	6. Strange Talk From a Strange Man, pt II

Stark is unable to contain a short, hysterical giggle, while Banner, Barton, and Natasha just raise an eyebrow each and stare in disbelief. The Captain leans against the wall, scrutinizing Jeremy just as much as Fury was, the Thunderer still sitting on the floor, probably thinking about what a strange man Jeremy was. Stark takes a step forward, one arm crossed over his chest, the other raised to stroke his chin.

"So, you," he begins, a thoughtful and slightly sarcastic look on his face. "Whoever you are- _whatever_ you are, want to join us… On a whim? I'm sorry but I find that hard to believe."

"It's not on a whim, Tony…" Jeremy sighs softly and leans back in the chair, one thick, green-and-black checkered boot thunking onto the table top. His pants were the same as his boots, laced up the sides and adorned with two belts not meant to hold the pants up. A dagger made of a chrome-like metal clings tightly to his right thigh in its sheath, held in by a small strap over one side of the cross-guard. A long black tank top clings to his torso, showing off his toned chest and arms as well as his pale skin. His arms lift to place his hair into a tight ponytail, some stubborn strands hanging down around his face. "This organization is different than the last, even though I know you still think I'm a threat. So let me prove to you that I'm not, and that I actually can and want to help. You all are exceptional at what you do; you defeated Loki's army with relatively minimal casualties, considering what could have happened. Nice work with the nuke, by the way. Could've let go a _little_ sooner, but honestly I'm just glad you survived. It would've been a shame to lose you. But I'd like to lend my hand."

"What would you do to prove it to us?" Fury steps up to the man in the chair, who raises both legs, the one on the table up towards the director's head, the other catching him at the gut. The action turns him and bends him over, Jeremy's arms thrusting him upwards as he hops over Fury's back, doing a twist on one leg before settling. His hand grips the man's shoulder and helps him up before he hit the floor. Everyone in the room goes on guard, brandishing what weapons they had available.

"Oh calm down I was just showing off. Fury, have your people gather all the scrap metal they can on the flight deck, I'll fix your broken turbine. You won't even have to land the ship." The director blinks, disoriented for a moment from the swift movements of the other, then nods to Agent Hill. The woman nods reluctantly in response and sends out the order before going back to her post. "Awesome. So, while they do that, I need to explain some things to you. Well, first… what I am. Sit, sit, you all are making me nervous standing there like that." Jeremy nudges the director into the chair before going over to the railing and sitting on it, watching the others. Everyone but Natasha and the Captain sit, the two still giving Jeremy scrutinizing looks.

"First things first, you need to know what I am… There is no translation from my language to yours, but the closest word would be 'vampire'. Now…" he pauses to let Tony have his laugh, glaring slightly at him. "You might think I'm crazy but it's obvious that I'm at least super-human. Let me explain and it will make more sense. The only reason that humans call my kind vampire is because of the fact that blood is the most nutritious thing we can consume, aside from something else which is entirely too complicated to explain, as well as the fact that it does strange things to our bodies."

"So you kill people… You eat them?" Natasha asks, voicing the Captain's obvious sentiments, causing Jeremy to roll his eyes.

"I try not to kill people but sometimes it has to happen… Human blood is like… fine dining. The expensive, twelve-star restaurant with the most delicious food you've ever consumed and it's nutritious to boot. And you eat it all there, at the restaurant, because you just don't take home leftovers from a place like that. While I can and do drink other blood, like animal blood, it's just not as satisfying. Animal blood is Chili's or that Italian place on Main that you take your family to on a Saturday night. Tasty and filling but not quite as satisfying. And I don't 'eat' them… I just drain all the blood out of their bodies. I consume no flesh, and honestly that's disgusting to think about, thank you for that." The man gives a shiver, going a little green for a moment. Natasha just gives him a funny look.

"So you're what kind of vampire, exactly? You don't… sparkle, do you?" All of the people gathered around the table roll their eyes, some snorting at Natasha's question because they were reminded of Edward Cullen, the sparkling vampire.

"I only sparkle if someone rubs glitter all over me," the ravenette retorts, earning a few chuckles around the table. "As for what kind… your kind doesn't have a type that's really close to what I am. Though in a sense I am a lot like those sparkly vampires. Strong, fast, feeding frenzy when I taste blood – so none of you bleed around my face – and my kind have various abilities. I bleed, I sustain injury, though I heal very quickly compared to humans, and I can die through relatively simple means… Don't have to rip me to pieces and burn them. You can, if it makes you feel better, I guess. I can also transform into a dragon, as a result of being so old. Hybrid, too, if I'm feeling up to it but the full form takes less effort to maintain."

"How old are you, a couple hundred?" Dr. Banner asks, scooting a little closer to the male though still keeping his distance.

"Last time I checked… two thousand seven hundred and twenty… three. I should be turning two thousand seven hundred twenty four in a few months time." As Jeremy proclaims this, jaws drop around the table; Tony, however, who was always skeptical, snorts and shakes his head.

"See but that's impossible, and like, way too precise. I mean yeah you look great for a couple thousand years old but how the hell do you keep track?"

"I don't, not accurately. After the first five hundred you stop really giving a shit, then after a thousand it just becomes a marker to keep some sort of grasp on time. And for me, I'm missing a few-hundred year chunk from my memory so I'm probably off by a hundred or so. Most people are lucky to be lucid for ninety-nine percent of their lives; I wasn't." The room goes quiet for a few minutes, the ravenette letting the occupants absorb the information he'd just put forth, his own expression unreadable.

"You said your kind has various abilities… care to explain that?" Fury asks, swiveling in the chair to look at the man. Agent Hill alerts the director that the scrap metal is gathered on the flight deck, adding that, much to everyone's surprise, it was staying put where they'd placed it. Jeremy grins and jumps up, clapping his hands together.

"Well, I'll show you. All of you can come out on the flight deck, I don't have performance issues." The ravenette gives a wink before striding out of the room, down the corridor to the entrance to the flight deck, walking out without abandon. He refuses the rebreather mask offered to him and walks over to the damaged turbine, chewing on his lip in thought.

"This is some nice destruction. A charge detonated off-center, meant to disable, caused a lot of debris. Let me guess, from one of your arrows, Barton?" he looks to the archer, who was standing with the rest of the Avengers with an incredulous look on his face. "Yep, thought so. Well, easy enough to fix." Reaching a hand out towards the turbine, the Helicarrier shudders slightly as the engine ceases its movement. Everyone shouts in alarm, but stops as the craft doesn't start to list. The ravenette flashes a grin before extending the other arm out to the pile of scrap metal on the deck, the scrap moving into piles of size and composition.

And then he begins to rebuild the broken turbine, standing on the flight deck waving his arms about as pieces of scrap move from their places towards the engine, shifting and morphing in the air into chunks of molten metal before being molded into pieces just like the ones originally used.


	7. Punishment

The Avengers stare in wonder at the miraculous sight before them, as though time itself had been rewound on the broken engine. The entire process takes less than a few minutes, the vampire walking out onto the unmoving engine to inspect his work. Apparently satisfied, he turns to the turbine and holds out his hand, electricity crackling in his palm before being directed downwards with a flick of his wrist. The electricity arcs all over the engine, disappearing into the metal with loud cracks, and the turbine starts back up with a shudder. Easily, Jeremy makes his way back onto the deck, grinning at them as he approaches.

"Good as new. A little better, actually. Shall we go back inside?" The man seems to enjoy being the centre of attention, the grin plastered on his face only growing as they follow him back inside. Once gathered back on the command deck, Fury gives a noise of contemplation before offering his hand out to Jeremy to shake.

"You're on a trial for now," he states stoically, expression unreadable. "Until I say you're not. Your little stunt out there proves you're useful, and willing to help, and I'd like to see more of what you can do. I'll need to discuss this with the council a bit before making it official, but I don't expect them to have much objection, considering you just saved them a lot of money in repairs." The ravenette simply stares at the offered hand for a moment, then looks back up to the director, hands stuffing into his pockets.

"Understood. A few conditions before you go off to talk to them… First, I don't take orders well. You want something done, ask, don't tell. Second, I will refuse any request I deem unreasonable or in direct violations of my personal rule set. If you have an issue with it, you can shove it where the sun doesn't shine. Third… You will all do your best to not bleed around me. While I have exceptional control over myself, it is still dangerous, especially if I have been seriously injured or haven't fed in a while. Fourth, I don't like to be touched without my permission, as you saw with Thor earlier. And fifth, you will in no way attempt to control me…" he trails off, his expression darkening as he stares at the director seriously. "Tell your council that if they want to study me, they will do it on my schedule, not theirs, and any attempts to restrain, control, or imprison me will be met with extreme force. I like you all and I would hate to have to kill any of you to prove my point."

"Agreed," the director confirms after a few moments of silent deliberation, knowing the man would be a great asset and likely a dangerous enemy. After a few more minutes of twenty questions directed at Jeremy, Fury slips off to go speak with the council. The others gather their things and prepare to disperse. After all, there wasn't a need for the group at the moment, and while Fury knew this, Jeremy seemed too great an asset to pass up. So despite the fact that the Avengers weren't needed, he decided it was better to agree to the man's request than reject him. Heli-planes transport them down to New York to go their separate ways. Tony and Dr. Banner ride off together in one of his fancy cars, while Thor, with Loki in tow, engages the Tesseract and disappear off to Asgard.

The ravenette watches from afar, blue eyes flicking upwards as he follows the trail of energy left by the teleportation. Silently, he shakes his head and leaps from his perch, transforming midair into a smaller version of his draconic form, his frame rippling as light bends and cloaks him from view. He had a purpose now, and he knew there would be more storms coming. For now, he would wait, and hope that things would fall into place as they should.

**Asgard.**

Thor and Loki materialize on the Bifrost, the raven-haired god staring at the rainbow bridge with emotionless eyes. He wanted to shout and yell and fight his bonds, but he knew it would be pointless to even try. A gentle tug at his shackles causes him to look up into his brother's sad eyes. The ravenette gives a snort and looks away, turning towards Asgard with his head held high. He would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him grovel at their feet, nor would he allow them to know that regretted what he did. It was too undignified to do something and not stand by one's own actions.

"Loki," Thor's surprisingly gentle voice begged, the blonde god shifting towards the other, despite the sound of approaching hooves. "Loki, look at me." Loki wanted to retort, to scream at him and tell him that all of this was his fault. If Thor hadn't been so _stupid_… No, none of this was Thor's fault. It never was, and the shapeshifter could only look back with eyes filled with unshed tears, bowing his head to rest it upon his brother's strong shoulder. He knew not who he was anymore; was he Asgardian? Or was he a child of Laufey? Or was he simply an unwanted babe, alone, staring at the stars for guidance? Thor's hand grips his shoulder, tilting his head upwards to place a soft kiss upon his brow. "I'm sorry I failed you, Brother…"

Loki lets out a growl, pulling away to glare at the other. His skin turns blue, red eyes narrowed sharply at the Thunderer as if to say, "I'm not your brother." Heimdall dismounts his horse and approaches them stoically, welcoming them home. Thor gives a soft sigh and greets the guardian before the dark-skinned man turns to Loki.

"Come, trickster," Heimdall growls, taking the leading chain from Thor. The ravenette's visage returns to normal as he's led to the second horse the guardian had brought, joining Thor on its back and allowing himself to be helped up onto the beast with a nasal sigh. Oh how he hated to be treated like this, but he didn't blame them for wanting him under lock and key. His lithe fingers grip at Thor's sides, pressing himself close to the other as they take off towards the golden hall, giving a soft shudder as he inhales the blonde's scent deeply. Rain, Thor always smelled like rain, and as they rode, he took in as much as he could, knowing this would likely be the last time he would ever see the man. The thought causes a solitary tear to roll down his cheek, only to disappear in the wind as they rode.

The grand hall was filled with gods and goddesses, but no one made a sound as Loki was led up to the throne. Heimdall places his hand on the ravenette's shoulder to force him to kneel, but Thor stops him, shaking his head. The blonde approaches the Allfather, placing a fist over his left breast and bowing his head in respect.

"Welcome home, my son," Odin says to Thor. The subtle lack of plurality drives an icy bolt of pain through Loki's heart, his demeanor growing cold and distant. No emotion showed in his eyes nor his face, staring adamantly at the ground. "Loki, you have been brought here to answer for your crimes. You have disgraced us, and I take no pleasure in having to do this… Thor. Since you are heir to the throne, I wish to know your opinion on what his punishment should be." Blinking in surprise, the Thunderer bows his head slightly and ponders the request, thinking back to what Jeremy had told him.

"Banishment to Muspell," the blonde declares strongly, leaving little room for argument. Odin ponders it for a little while, then gives a firm, final nod.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself before your punishment is given?" Odin's staff thuds against the floor softly and the gag falls down around the ravenette's neck. Loki contemplates the question for a moment, reaching up to rub his jaw slowly before giving a sneering smile.

"Maggots…" he hisses, causing the room to erupt in angry shouts and profanities. Heimdall roughly replaces the gag before shoving the male to the centre of the room. Dark energy begins to surround him, green eyes staring coldly back at his so-called family.

"Loki Laufeyson, you are hereby banished to Muspell for the rest of your days." With a note of finality, Odin's staff slams into the ground once more. The god closes his eyes, allowing himself to be flung out of Asgard to the land of the fire giants. All that remains in Asgard are the shackles and gag, lain useless upon the floor.

**Muspell, some time later.**

"Ngh…" the dusty bundle of green and gold banished god groans against the sandy ground, coughing softly as he slowly gets to his feet. Surveying around him, he gives a heavy sigh and starts off towards the south, an arm hugging his chest. His landing had been quite rough and thankfully no fire giants had happened upon him in the time that he'd been unconscious.

After a few hours of limping along in the hot, dusty heat, he comes across a house made of ice, nestled, quite literally, underneath some very large boulders. His nest, a cold sanctuary created to house the frost giant from the heat of the desert; he was, for all intents and purposes, home. Murmuring an incantation at the edge of the rocks, he passes through a rippling wall of light and is greeted by a pleasant blast of cool. The ravenette gives a happy shiver before entering the enchanted house, stripping out of his dirty clothing and bathing before dressing in some simple yet still elegant clothes. A sound at the door alerts him to the entrance of two more, so he goes out to greet them.

"Mother!" a small boy's voice rings, the sound of small shoes approaching prompting Loki to kneel, capturing the small boy in his arms. The small ravenette squeezes him as tightly as he can before kissing his face eagerly. "I'm so happy you're here!" Loki gives a distant smile and pets the boy's soft black hair while peering into his bright blue eyes.

"I'm home for good, Thor."


	8. A Place to Call Home

Screaming bloody murder, Loki smashes his fist through the table before stumbling over to the fireplace, clutching at his head. Pain rips through his skull, forcing him to his knees in front of the flames in tears. Little Thor hides behind his nanny, whimpering softly as he peers out from behind the giantess's skirt.

"Master Loki, you're frightening your son," she warns quietly, not quite sure how to deal with the ravenette's psychotic episode. She gasps, ducking a flying candlestick, then grabs Thor and thrusting him into his room before marching over to Loki to wrestle the man down to the floor. Panting, she sits atop the squirming god until he calms down, finally going limp beneath her, breathing shallow and shivering. She knew something was wrong, but knew not what, so she simply gathered him up like an overgrown child and carried him to his room.

"Thor…" he murmurs softly. His fingers cling to his pillow, shivering like a leaf in the wind. Cold sweat coats his body, soaking the bedcovers. A haze of pain and rage that did not belong to him stains his consciousness, thrusting him into nightmares filled with things he didn't want to think about. Some time later, his eyes flutter open and he sits up carefully, stiff and chilled. The male bathes before returning to his bed, throwing off the damp coverings and curling up.

"Loki," a voice calls from the doorway, prompting him to look up. Thor, in all his naked glory, stands just inside the room, skin glowing in the cool darkness of the home. Loki's mouth gapes open, for the first time in his life, completely speechless. Thor shuts the door and joins him on the bed, kissing him roughly and passionately. "Loki…" he moans, strong hand sliding down his stomach to stroke him firmly. The ravenette gasps and squirms, his back arching as his fingers twist into the blonde's hair.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" the shape shifter pants, throwing his head back with a moan as the other bites his collarbone harshly. Thor picks up the other, forcing him onto his knees before thrusting hard into him. Fiery heat was all Loki could feel, creeping up into his belly as the blonde's thrusts continue, causing stinging tears to well up in the ravenette's eyes. "Thor, it hurts!" he cries, clutching at the bed. It was like the sun itself was burying into him, and despite the pain, Loki was enjoying himself. Gasping and shuddering, the god clings to the bed for dear life, screaming out in both pain and pleasure as the Thunderer fills him with hot seed.

The burning in him doesn't cease as Thor pulls away, disappearing into air. Broken sobs shatter the silence of the room, his hands clutching at his now-swollen stomach. Something was squirming inside of him, growing until the skin of his stomach rips. The creature, a steadily-growing golden-scaled serpent, bloody and covered in bits of his flesh, flicks out its tongue and licks away Loki's tears.

"Don't cry, Mother…" the serpent spoke in little Thor's voice, rubbing its bloody head against the trickster's pale cheek. The man whimpers and shakily gets to his feet, stumbling backwards as the serpent grows large enough to break through the roof of the home. The snake's maw opens and closes over Loki, swallowing him whole while still growing greater and greater, the god falling into darkness. He picks up speed, shattering upon the ground like he was made of ice.

Little Thor squeals in surprise as Loki jumps up from his sleep and shouts, the three-year-old sliding off the bed to the rocking chair nearby. Wide blue eyes peer at the larger male worriedly, making a soft noise as his mother looks around. Spotting the boy, he shakily gets up from the bed and kneels, beckoning him close.

"I'm sorry, don't be afraid…" The boy runs out and curls into Loki's lap, wrapping his arms around the male's arm tightly.

"Nanna didn't want me to see you but you were crying…" the boy's pronunciation was well-developed for his age, but that was no surprise, being Loki's child after all. He looks up at the other and kisses his tiny hand before pressing it to the god's scruffy cheek, making him laugh a little.

"Well, aren't you sweet… Thor?" Suddenly, the boy gives a squeak of pain, jumping out of his arms and shouting something about his nanny as he melts into the floor. Anger fills his vision and he scrambles to his feet, running out to find the woman, spotting her screaming at the boy. Before he realizes what's going on, he attacks her, throwing her into the wall before leaping at her throat, grabbing a knife off the table as he does. The blade comes down over and over again into her chest, and even as her body goes limp he continues to stab, hand gripping her throat as tightly as he could. Only the sound of Thor crying from his bedroom door causes him to stop and look up, suddenly coming back to reality. Thor… hadn't even been in the room, it had all been a hallucination. Everything that happened was just a nightmare; sleeping or waking it didn't matter. Except for his attack on the giantess whom he had asked to raise his son while he was off trying to conquer Earth.

How stupid he'd been, he should have stayed here, on Muspell, taking care of little Thor. With a sob he rips off his bloodied shirt before scooping his child up in his arms, holding him close. With everything he had, he regretted everything but sleeping with Thor. He should have been stronger, should have been able to resist the control. That way he could have done everything right… Shown Thor how he truly felt, even though he knew that the Allfather would likely never approve of it. The trickster also desperately wanted to show Thor and the rest of Asgard that he really did belong there, even if he really didn't… He was lost, now, but he had his son.

Carefully, he takes the boy to his bed, laying him down with a gentle kiss to his brow and bids him to sleep. Reluctantly, little Thor curls up clutching his stuffed rabbit his nanny had sewn together for him for his second birthday. He gives a little whimper at remembering that his nanny was now dead, but closes his eyes and buries his face into the bunny's back, slipping off to sleep as Loki quietly shuts the door behind him.

"I'm sorry…" the god murmurs, as an apology to both his son and the giantess he'd just murdered in a fit of rage not even his own. He begins to clean up the mess silently; the only thing he could do now was give the woman a proper funeral. Picking up her bloodied body, he pauses as his gaze catches his reflection in a mirror nearby. He was haggard, dark circles under his eyes and paler than usual. The scruff of several days' beard growth darkened his cheeks and chin, and his hair had grown further down his shoulders. He had to have been asleep for a week at least, the thought of which causes him to shake his head with a sigh. Just outside the safety of the rocks, the ravenette sets the giantess's body aflame with a spell.

Fiery orange eyes watch from a distance, a dry tongue licking hungrily at chapped lips. The desperate urge to possess the frost giant was nigh overwhelming, but the creature would wait… No need to rush things, Loki would be here for a very long time. He would get his chance, and when he did, he would savor it, as long as he could. He would not hold back.

**Earth, four years later, S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, somewhere over the Atlantic.**

Director Nick Fury stands on the command deck of the Helicarrier, surveying the room with a bored eye. It had been a long day, the Avengers off fighting yet another villain that thought they could take over the world. Somehow, all of it seemed trivial. Loki's assault had been the first true attack, as well as the largest, causing the most casualties and the most damage. No criminal mastermind, no angry supernatural creature, and certainly no alien force had even come close to what the god had accomplished. Everything was easy… far too easy for Nick Fury's liking. But it was as it was, and all he could do was wait for something challenging to come along. Not that he really wanted another event like that, but it'd certainly be more interesting than what they'd been dealing with. Noise coming down the hall alerts him to the arrival of his team, chattering eagerly as though they'd not just been off saving the world.

"Dude, Thor could totally kick your ass," he hears Tony jab, prompting laughter that he knew all too well.

"No, really Tony, I'm stronger than him," Jeremy responds, shaking his head as he enters the room first.

"Hah, I'll see you to that one day," Thor challenges, earning a wicked grin from the ravenette, who pulls two chairs to the corner of the triangular table.

"Let's do this then, I, Jeremy, challenge you, Thor, to an arm-wrestling match. Here and now. And if you decline… then I'll just have to assume that you're too chicken to take me on." The god gives an indignant snort and plops himself down in the chair opposite to Jeremy.

"Oh, they're really going to do this right now?" Natasha asks with a roll of her eyes, sitting up on the railing to watch them. Barton joins her with a kiss, laying his arm over her shoulders. "Ugh, Clint, you stink. What did you do down in the pipes, roll around in shit?" The redhead scoots away from him holding her nose.

"Well if the Captain hadn't taken his sweet time getting to the rendezvous, I probably wouldn't stink so bad," the archer grumbles, shaking his head.

"Hey, you volunteered, so no complaining," Jeremy blows a raspberry at him, gripping Thor's hand firmly.

"You shoved me down there!" Barton shouts, pointing accusingly at the ravenette, who just shrugs and focuses on Thor.

"You _were_ the closest one to the hole…" the Captain offers as he walks in, dropping down into a chair near the others. Out of all of them, he'd taken the worst beating, as he'd been the distraction. He'd been 'volunteered' for that job in similar fashion to Barton; the vampire had flung him through a window, shouting something that sounded like 'fly little birdie'. Thor counts to three and the two begin their match, grunting and groaning as they each tried to overpower the other. At first, it seems as though the blonde would win, but Jeremy gives a playful growl and forces the god's arm down to the table with a slam before jumping up to shout in triumph.

"Damn you!" the god cries shamefully, letting his head fall to the table. Jeremy just does a little jig before grinning at Dr. Banner and a petite blonde woman as they enter. The woman just shakes her head with a light chuckle, taking the ravenette's seat and patting Thor on the head.

"So how did it go?" Fury asks finally, approaching them. Not like he really needed to ask; the group's high spirits were indication enough that the mission had gone without flaw. Tony is the first to report, detailing the first part of their adventure: infiltration. Jeremy had done a little mapping and sent Barton down into the sewer pipes leading into the stronghold, then tossed the Captain through the only window they could find on that side of the building. Tony lent him support from the air, and once the gates were open, they 'stormed the castle', as it were. Thor details the assault excitedly, the blonde always having a penchant for great battle stories, then Jeremy takes over handing Fury the artifact they had been sent to recover.

"Safe and sound, in the hands of its rightful owners," he states, giving Fury the small flash drive. It didn't seem like much, but that storage device held valuable information about their enemy's plans and research, as well as information that had been stolen from them a few days prior. The dark-skinned male gives an appreciative nod, handing it over to his assistant, Agent Hill, before patting Jeremy on the shoulder.

"Glad you're all back in one piece. Well, now that this has been taken care of, I daresay you all have earned some R&R. I'll contact you if you're needed." Thor stands and steps up to the director, a serious look on his face.

"I need to return to Asgard, my duties there are pressing."

"Very well, I'll have the Tesseract returned to you, and I hope you can return soon… You look like you have something to say, Jeremy." The ravenette leans against the table, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'd like to come with you Thor."

"Pardon?" The blonde blinks, turning to look at him. He couldn't fathom why the vampire would want to go to Asgard, and, despite trusting the male, his look did nothing to put the Thunderer at ease.

"Things need to fall into place. The Bifrost is still shattered; no progress has been made to repair it. I believe that I can do this for you. And…" the ravenette looks down with a sardonic smile. "You know I don't fit in very well here, Thor. You, a god among men, should understand this well. It's been a long time since I've had somewhere to truly call home, and I believe Asgard would be the best substitute for what I cannot go back to. I've seen Earth a thousand times over, from all different angles, and all different times… I've even seen it from the moon, on a crazy venture I once took… But it has and will never be a home to me." He straightens and walks over to the railing, leaning on it and staring out the window, a distant look upon his youthful features. "At least let me try and repair your bridge, that way you won't have to worry about the Tesseract's safety. Call it a… gift. To both you and a friend."

"Father would need to agree, but I will take you with me; I owe you that much." The god pats the man on the shoulder with a fond smile before turning to leave the room. The rest of the group wishes the two the best, the blonde woman giving a knowing smile to Jeremy before kissing him on the cheek.

"I'll take care of these guys while you're gone, brother. I hope you find what you're looking for." She gives him a squeeze and shoos him off, knowing that Thor was leaving immediately.

Up on the flight deck, Jeremy stands, dressed in his full chrome armor. Bright sunlight seems to be absorbed into the metal, lending no shine to the vampire's visage. The Thunderer approaches him and offers him one end of the Tesseract's containment vehicle, twisting it after a nod from the other. A blue light flashes, and they're gone.


End file.
